The Past
by Sara Abigail
Summary: What if Sara's mother had been the abuser? What if her father's death wasn't self defense? What if everyone believed it was? When Sara goes to 'Frisco to help Grissom with a case, the truth surrounding Sara's past may finally be revealed. Dark themes. GSR
1. Chapter 1

Ok I know you probably really really hate me right now, for not updating my other stories. I can't even claim being busy anymore, it just seems that my other stories really really want to remain unfinished. But I promise you, I'm working on them, and I'm trying to get another chapter finished. In the mean time though, I've written this. I can't guarantee that I won't get writers block with this one, but unlike my others I have a very good idea of where I want this story to go, so I don't anticipate any problems :) Please leave a review and tell me what you think :)

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to people with lots of money and who are much smarter than I. I just enjoy messing with the characters :)

_A gust of cold wind pushed it's way through the now open courtroom doors. She shivered as it hit her, her eyes darting around the room, glancing from one person to the next. The prosecutor's victorious smile, her mother's emotionless eyes, locked with her own, the judge's death glare._

Sara Sidle woke just in time to stifle a scream. She was thankful for that, for she did not wish to wake the entire building. She looked at the clock and frowned. It was still a few good hours before she was due at work, but she knew she would not get anymore sleep.

She slid off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. She pinned her hair up in a small bun before stripping and stepping under the warm spray of the shower. A moan escaped her lips as the water worked out all the tension in her muscles.

The nightmares were becoming more and more frequent and though they had always surfaced around this time of year, they had never been quite this bad before. She knew she was able to function on little to no sleep, but could she do it for two weeks straight? She sighed and turned off the shower.

Work was going to be bearable at best, she thought as she toweled off. The main reason being Gil Grissom's departure to San Francisco just a few days earlier. He was there for a conference, and not scheduled to be back until next week. She chuckled softly as she remembered a time, quite recently in fact, when his presence at work would make it unbearable. But ever since her almost DUI, their friendship seamed to be getting much better. And though it was good that they were on better terms, she knew friendship would never be enough. She'd always want more.

She let her hair out and grabbed her robe. If she was going to stay up she might as well get coffee. She'd try to eat later. Right now liquids were all her stomach could handle. She snuggled further into her warm robe as she walked into the kitchen.

Sara had never been a messy person. Although if she were honest, she was never really home long enough to mess anything up. As she waited for her coffee, she let her eyes wonder around the room.

The counter tops were made to look like marble, which gave the room a nicer feel to it. The cabinets were a burgundy color and didn't contain much. It wasn't that she didn't like to cook, or that she wasn't good at it, because she was, she just didn't like doing it for one person. That and the fact she rarely had time to run to the store and get more than the bare minimum.

A breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the living room, which, like the kitchen, wasn't that cluttered. Instead of magazines, she had forensic journals on her round, wooden coffee table. The sofa was on one side of it, while a rarely used TV was on the other. There were many bookcases around the room, giving it an almost library feel. They were stacked to the brim with books, mostly of the scientific nature. Sara selected a book from one now, and walked over to the sofa. She set it on the coffee table, before blowing on her coffee. She was just about to take a sip when a sudden shrill almost made it end up in her lap. She scrambled to find her cell phone and found it just in time to answer it on the last ring.

"Hello." She winced as she realized how breathless she sounded.

"Sara? Did I wake you?" Sara couldn't stop the smile that was spreading on her face.

"No, Griss. You didn't wake me. I was just trying to find my phone. It seems to take pleasure in hiding from me." That earned her a chuckle. "How's 'Frisco?"

"That's actually why I'm calling."

Sara frowned. "What's up?"

"A woman was found murdered in her home. They've asked me to help, hoping I could make something out of all the insect activity. But, even with my help, they're short handed, as they recently had to fire quite a few after busting up a ring of dirty cops. They have let me call a member of my team in, and I want you."

Sara smiled, letting herself believe, for just a moment, that he wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with crime scene investigation. Her smile started to fade, however, when she remembered where he was. San Francisco. He was calling her to investigate a murder in San Francisco. Of course she had already proved she could work there, as most of the key players in the investigation of her father's death were either retired or no longer working there. But at the time, her nightmares were not this bad. Could she stand to see such familiar settings, with images of her past running through her mind almost constantly? Well, she thought, there was only one way to find out.

"So, are you willing to help me out?" She could tell he was teasing now.

"More than willing," was her reply.

"Good. I'll call Catherine and let her know. How soon can you get here?" Grissom asked.

"How soon do you need me?" She asked back.

"As soon as possible."

"I'll catch the next flight out," She promised.

"Call me from the plane and let me know when you'll be landing. I'll see you when you get here." Even though she couldn't see his face, she would swear he was smiling.

After hanging up, she called to set up her flight. She had just finished working out all the details when Catherine phoned.

"You're going to San Francisco." It was a statement. "Just you and Grissom."

"We're not going to be alone there Cath, and you know this isn't exactly vacation."

"Still, you. Him. Away from Vegas …" Catherine paused. "Something's bound to happen."

"And when it doesn't, I have every right to tell you I told you so," Sara said.

"I hope you liked saying it then, because you're not going to get to say those words when you get back."

"I highly doubt that. Look I really need to pack …"

"Of course. I was just calling to let you know that we've got you're cases covered, and not to worry about them. I'll talk to you when you get back. And I expect a full report."

"There won't be anything to report."

"Of course there won't," Catherine said sarcastically. "I'll talk to you later."

"'Bye." Sara hung up the phone before turning around to stare at her closet. The doors were opened to revel that it was a pretty good-sized room, not big enough to be a walk-in, but it was more than enough room for Sara's wardrobe.

Thirty minutes later, the light blue comforter that was on her queen-size bed was no longer visible. Clothes were piled upon it as Sara decided which ones would be the best choice to take. Finally she gave up and threw the ones closest to the suitcase in it.

By the time she hung the other articles of clothing back where they belonged and straightened up her room, it was time to leave for her flight. She paused at the doorway, taking one last look around. After making sure she wasn't leaving anything, she turned off the main light and shut the door.

***

Sara was both joyful and nervous as she stepped off the plane. She had never been that big of a flying fan and was glad to have both feet planted firmly on the ground—literally. On the other hand, this was the first time she and Grissom had worked a case—just them—since her almost DUI. It could be awkward even if they were in Vegas. But he'd wanted her. Of course it was only in the professional sense, but he called her when he could have called anyone else. Maybe he wanted to fix this … _thing_ between them as much as she did. Sara forced her face to conceal any traces of nervousness as she spotted Grissom at the terminal.

"Glad to see you made it safe and sound."

"So am I. One reason to hate traveling for the job: You have to check all this," She lifted her arms to show her kit and other CSI related items, "with security. You would think with all the breakthroughs in technology they'd be able to run your ID card through the system a little bit quicker."

"But where's the fun in that?" Grissom teased, taking her bag from her. He gave her a look that told her not to protest.

"So, when do we start on the case?"

"Well, the autopsy will be preformed within the hour, and since you're here, why don't we go talk to the coroner? Or would you rather go to your hotel first?"

Even though Sara had gotten little sleep, she was awake and ready to work. Not to mention the fact that the nerves from being on the plane had made her anything but sleepy. "The morgue sounds good to me."

She regretted those words a little while later, as she stood beside the autopsy table, looking at a woman who brought back terrible flashbacks. It was not the woman herself that caused them, Sara had never met her, but the color of her hair, her body type, and worst of all, the stab wounds on her chest. Sara didn't know for a fact, having only seen a picture, one that was in the paper no less, but she was pretty sure the stab wounds were in the same place. The same place as her mother's. Now, there were other memories, ones that contained her mother not as the victim, but as a killer. It was all she could do to keep from fainting.

But she held her ground. She was strong. She could handle this. At least that's what she kept telling herself. But she had to keep going. She couldn't let the weight of this break her. Her mother may have been psychotic, but she was a strong woman. And thankfully that was one of the traits Sara had inherited. Sara took a deep, calming breath as the left the autopsy room. I can do this, she said to herself. I have to be able to do this.

Grissom decided to head back to the crime scene so that Sara could get a good look at it. Sara was fine with that, and used the drive collect herself and reread the autopsy file. Grissom seemed to notice something was a little off in the way Sara was behaving, and because he kept glancing over at her as he drove. She knew he must have also picked up on how much time she was spending reading the report and was probably wondering whether she'd even heard what the coroner had said. Of course she hadn't, but she didn't want him to know that.

"We're here," Grissom said, pulling the car into the driveway.

Sara tore her gaze from the autopsy report and looked up at the house. What she saw made her heart stop. No, it couldn't be, she thought physically shaking her head.

The house was made of red bricks and seemed to have an older quality about it. Ivy could be found on certain sides, making the brick barely visible in those areas. It was two stories and the top story had a small balcony off one of the windows. The house was an older one, but not so old that it looked as if I was built in a different time. Considering how many years it had been through, the house looked surprisingly good. Sara figured the new owner must have remolded it.

She hoped Grissom hadn't noticed the change in her, but the questioning glance he sent her way made it obvious that he had. Her frown deepened. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

Sara drew in a deep breath as Grissom cut the red tape that sealed the door. She had known from the beginning that this wasn't going to be easy, but these turn of events were unexpected. She couldn't believe she was about to step in the house for the first time since she was nine.

The inside of the house had changed more than the outside. Over time, it had evolved, changing with the times. There was a flat screen where Sara's old living room TV set was. A plush red couch replaced the old ugly one that sat across from it. The blue carpet had been torn up with gray carpet put in its place. The kitchen had been remolded and had new appliances. The house barely resembled the place where Sara had spent the first nine years of her life. But little things still remained.

Even though new owners had tried to paint over it, there were still carved notches in the kitchen wall indicating her height every year. The door leading to the back yard still held her initials in the bottom right hand corner. There was still a dog house in back, where her Boxer puppy Brutus used to live. He had been a gift for her ninth birthday; causing yet another argument between her parents, first on deciding whether to get the dog and then whether it would be inside or outside. Sara had hated that her mother was able to persuade her father to leave Brutus outside. For a brief moment Sara let herself wonder what had ever happened to her cute little puppy, but then she switched to a different topic, telling herself the possible lie that Brutus had been adopted into a loving, caring family.

She followed Grissom to the spot where their victim had been killed, not missing the fact that this was very close to the spot where her own mother died. She could tell Grissom was about to say something but someone spoke first.

"Looks like Crabby Abby's struck again, huh?"

Grissom and Sara whirled around to see a young man dressed in a nice suit with a badge on the right lapel.

"Who?" Grissom asked, not very politely.

"Crabby Abby," The young detective said again, seeming not to notice Grissom's rudeness. "You know? The one who's mother murdered her abusive husband 20 years ago. The little girl always claimed her mother was the abusive one, and would go into a fit if anyone said anything sympathetic about her. The girl hated that woman. My personal opinion, the father brainwashed his own daughter, made her believe he was the victim. Anyway due to her fits, the press named her 'Crabby Abby'. Pretty lame name huh? You would have thought they could've come up with something better, but it stuck any ways."

"And you are?" Grissom asked in the same tone as before, and once again, the detective seemed to not notice.

"Randy Jones," he said, tipping an imaginary hat toward Sara.

"So what's," Grissom paused, "Crabby Abby got to do with this?"

"You really don't know the story?" Grissom shook his head while Sara remained still. "Well, when Abby aged out of the system she went looking for her mom. She found her here and stabbed her. A couple of good times too."

"How do you know it was her?" Sara spoke for the first time.

"She hated Leigha Summers, her mom, every one could tell she'd hated her for killing her father. She had motive and opportunity. Plus there were some things at the house indicating her daughter had been there recently," Randy answered.

"She never confessed?" Grissom asked.

"No one's been able to find her. She disappeared after she killed her mother. If she's smart, though, she'll stay away. Because the minute she sets foot back in San Francisco, she'll be welcomed back with handcuffs and a trip to county." The detective had this smug look on his face.

Sara almost chuckled at the fact that she'd been in San Francisco multiple times since her mothers death, and was only at the jail when her job needed her to be. The reminder of the arrest warrant that was still out for her however, kept the chuckle from her escaping her lips.

If they ever found out about her past, she would have an alibi for this woman's murder, Sara couldn't even remember her name. Sara had been at the lab in Vegas at the time of death. But she had no alibi for the night her mother was murdered. She'd been at Harvard at the time. But no one could vouch for her since she was enrolled under her new name Sara Sidle, instead of Abigail Summers. And even so, she kept to herself a lot that first year, no one would be able to say for certain that she hadn't flown down, killed her mother and flown back. Her mother died on a Saturday, so she didn't have class as an alibi.

She had to keep her secret hidden at all costs. Not even Grissom could afford to know. Because of this stupid cop, her mothers death would be investigated again, and this woman would be believed as her second victim. Even if Grissom thought she was innocent, which he might not if the evidence favored her, he would insist she be off the case. And Sara had to know what happened to her mother. Not just to clear her own name, but to bring the person that killed her, and possibly this woman as well, to justice. Sara may have hated her mother, but she never wished her dead.

"We're going to need a copy of Abby's mother's file. We'll need to make sure that these are indeed related. Also a copy of her father's file and the court transcripts would be most appreciated," Grissom said, looking over at Sara, silently asking if she had anything to add. She gave her head a little shake, indicating that she didn't.

Randy nodded, "Of course, I'll go see what I can do." He turned back around and left the house.

"Well, wasn't he … " Sara paused trying to think of an appropriate word, "something."

Grissom smirked at her. "The upstairs is the only floor that hasn't been searched for evidence yet, would you like to do the honors?"

"Sure," Sara said, before turning around and heading towards the stairs. She stopped at the bottom of them, and looked at the floor. Memories of watching her father die right there bubbled to the surface, but Sara suppressed them. She wiped away a few tears that had wandered down her face and proceeded to climb the stairs, forcing herself to not look back.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, I am well aware that I said I would update frequently, but shortly after that my pc crashed. And I have been trying for months to try and get the half of this chapter I wrote on there. I have since given up. So now I'm writing a new one, and hopefully it better than my other version (:

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the characters of CSI where not one of my Christmas presents.

* * *

Sara stood in the door way of her old bedroom. This room like all the others had been updated, sporting new electronics, such as a new computer and another, smaller flat screen. The bed wasn't in the same spot hers had been and it was a twin as opposed to her full bed. There were very few belongings in the closet and draws, suggesting this room was now only occupied by guests.

Sara knew she shouldn't spend much time in here. This hadn't been the victims room, and there was no evidence to suggest a recent visitor, yet she couldn't leave. She walked over to the closet and opened the doors. The new owner had apparently decided not to take the time to paint the closet, since it was still the ugly beige color Sara detested.

The fact that the walls were left untouched gave Sara hope that the secret of her old closet hadn't been discovered. She knelt down and felt along the wall on the bottom left of the closet. When she felt the unevenness of one section of the wall, she hit the space with her knuckles twice. The piece of wall fell away and dust clouded Sara's nose. She sneezed a couple of times before the air became clear. When it did, Sara was delighted to find her old hiding place had not been disturbed.

She had discovered the place in the wall when she was about six, while she was attempting to hide from her raging mother. It became the place where she stashed all of her important belongings, for she was sure her mother would never take the time to find a hollow place at the bottom of a closet. She looked in the space now, pleased that she had found a way to keep her treasured pieces away from unwanted eyes.

The first thing she took out was a necklace. The chain was one used for little children and the charm was a tiny crown. Her father had nicknamed her Princess, which is what Sara, his name of choice for her, means in Hebrew. He had given her the crown necklace for her sixth birthday. Sara, who'd been too afraid of what could happen to it, rushed it up to her hideaway, never once getting the chance to wear it. Sara eyed the necklace now. I'm going to get a new chain for it, she thought. It's time I wore this ole thing.

She placed this necklace in her pocket and pulled another item out of the hole, this time it was a small music box. She'd founded it at a yard sale one day and when she opened it, it played her father's favorite lullaby. He even used to sing it to her at night before things got really bad. She bought it with what little money her father gave her every so often and had planned to give it to him for his birthday. Unfortunately he had died before she ever got the chance.

Sara wiped a stray tear from her eye. She would love to have the music box again. She wondered if it even still played. To hear that song again … but she had no way of getting it out of the house. And if she took it downstairs it would be logged as evidence, and she might never see it again. Plus then Grissom would learn about the hideaway. This, too, had to remain a secret.

At the back of the space, Sara found her old wad of cash. The little bits she'd been saving up. For what, she never exactly knew, but she figured it couldn't help to start saving early. It became her emergency cash, in case she ever ended up on her own. She had never been able to go and retrieve the stash, however, for they wouldn't let her back in the house. She gently took off the rubber band that held the money and counted out how much was there. Almost fifty dollars, she mused. Too bad I never really had any place to spend it.

The last thing in the hideaway was a piece of paper. It was a note her father had written to her after one of the big fights. Sara and her father had a little tradition of writing notes back and forth to one another after a disagreement, or if it was something they didn't want to say out loud. In this particular note, Sara's father promised that he would do everything in his power to protect her, and that he would make sure she was taken care of.

More tears were sliding down her cheeks now. Of course, in the end he had been unable to keep his promise, but Sara never blamed him. It was never his fault. Between her mother's wild temper and her very strong male companions, her father was in a losing war. But he continued to fight, and to make sure little harm came to Sara. Of course when Sara was in the hands of Leigha and what ever her flavor of the month was, which ended up happening quite often, there was no one there to save her.

Sara reread the letter one more time before putting back in the hideaway along with the music box and the money. For some reason she couldn't bring herself to spend it. It was the first money she had ever saved, and it would stay that way. It wasn't as if she was in dire need of money now anyway.

She sealed the hole back up and ran her hand over the section. When she reached the bottom she found what she was looking for. The name Sara Abigail Summers was written in her childish scrawl. It was her way of marking the place as her own. She grazed her fingers over her name one more time before getting up and leaving the room.

She glanced back when she reached the door and sighed. The room had changed so much, yet Sara could still see it the way it was. A pink girls room, fit for any little princess, while the princess in question lay on the bed, face shoved in her pillow to hide the sounds of her sobs. There were good and bad memories here, and Sara fought hard to remember the good. Her father tucking her in each night, singing their lullaby softly before kissing her forehead and wishing her sweet dreams. Him sliding the note that now resides in the hideaway underneath her door. She wiped away a few more tears before she turned and left the room that had been hers for so long.

* * *

The master bedroom was arranged the same way it was when Sara was little. Everything had been updated, of course, but nothing had been moved around. That made processing it much more difficult. She went through the nightstands and the dresser, looking for signs that anything in her life was abnormal. Sara learned the deceased had a lover. There were love letters stashed in one of the nightstands. Only initials were used to sign and address the letters, however, so the lover was still unknown. Sara made a mental to check anyone they came across with the initials J. J. It maybe nothing, though, she thought. The letters weren't dated so there was no way to tell whether the relationship was ongoing or not.

She checked the bathroom, rummaged through the big closet, checked under the bed but didn't end up finding anything worth being called evidence. She checked to bed and found no sign of any recent sexual activity, which meant the lover maybe an ex-lover now. Or they never made it to the bed.

She finished up the master bedroom and checked the other bathroom on that floor. Nothing extraordinary was found there either and so she began her decent back downstairs.

"Our vic may have had a boyfriend," Sara said to Grissom who had migrated to the kitchen. He turned upon hearing her. She gestured with the hand holding the letters. "I found these in her bedroom. They're love letters, all either signed or addressed _J. J._"

Grissom took the bag from her and looked over them for himself. "There are no dates," Sara continued. "so I have no way of knowing when they stopped or started. However, her bed showed no signs of any recent sexual encounters, but she could've just changed her sheets."

Grissom nodded in agreement. "Well, we have a suspect now," He said. "Too bad we don't know his real name." It was Sara's turn to nod her agreement.

"I'll check her phone records, see if any one with those initials show up," Sara suggested. "Find anything down here?"

"Nothing really note worthy. She had a grocery list made, so she might have been planning a trip to the store. There are pictures of family members up on the fridge. She doesn't appear to be an only child."

"Good," Sara said. "Maybe her siblings can help us find J. J."

Grissom looked at his watch. "It's past time for lunch. Do you want to grab something before we head to the lab?"

"Yeah, I'm starved," she grinned. In truth her recent emotional ride had left her anything but hungry, but she knew she needed to eat. They packed up their things and left the house. As they pulled out of the driveway, Sara wondered when she would have to walk through that house again, and if the memories would be as unbearable as they were this time.

* * *

Ok, wow. It's like 6 in the morning, I've been up all night, and I started this an hour ago. I've tried to continue this several times and hit a wall each time but I can write that in an hour after being up all night. Well, now it's official, I'm weird. Haha. I know it's short but I need sleep. I'll work on chapter three later after I get sleep. Please review, i love hearing what you have to say (:


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, I've slept a good six hours and I'm ready to start writing again. Lets see where this new chapter takes us. (:

Disclaimer: Yeah, not mine ):

* * *

Lunch was short, for they were in a hurry to get to the lab and drop off the letters to questionable documents. They hoped that the people in that department would be able to find something useful. While there Sara got to see her old supervisor, Jonathon Carson, again. He was an older man, with white hair and a ready smile. He looked slightly out of shape and Sara wondered if all the years on the job were starting to affect him. Carson had been one of the CSIs on not only her fathers death, but her mothers as well. He had even interviewed her once. Yet even after all this time, he was still unaware that Abigail Summers and Sara Sidle were one in the same.

"So, I hear your case resembles the Leigha Summers murder," Carson said after the "how have you been?"s were over.

"Well, news definitely still travels fast here," Sara commented with a smile. Carson returned it.

"Jones is one of our top detectives. No really," he added after Sara gave a snort in disbelief. "I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's a hardworking pain in the ass."

"Sounds like some one else I know," Grissom quipped, throwing a glance in Sara's direction. Her eyes narrowed in a mock glare before turning her head back to Carson, who chuckled.

"Anyway," Carson continued. "He said you wanted the file, so I had it pulled." He handed it to Grissom. "It seemed to be just a crime of passion. It's hard to believe that we may have a cold blooded killer on our hands. I mean I knew Abby had some hatred in her but I never thought that she could be capable of something like this."

"Well, hopefully you're right and these two are not related," Grissom said. But in the pit of Sara's stomach she knew they were. Who ever murdered her mother, murder this poor woman and Sara was going to make sure they didn't get away with it this time.

Grissom and Sara sat down at one of the tables in the break room, the file being place in between them. Sara tried hard to seem as if the was just any other file, but she was sure she looked like a complete mess. She had purposely avoided looking at this for the entire time she'd been working as a CSI in San Francisco. She told herself that it would look suspicious if she seemed to favor the case, especially if her past was discovered. But she knew the real reason, she was afraid. Afraid of the memories that it would bring back. And Sara wasn't exactly sure if she would sympathize with her mother. What if she really did hate her enough to be glad she was dead? Was she really capable of that? Sara mentally shook her head. Of course not, she told herself. Every death was a tragedy, no matter whose it was. Yet, she had been unable to shake the slight feeling of relief that had come over her in learning Leigha Summers had passed. She still felt guilty about that. A life was no longer in the world, and she felt relieved?

She mentally shook her head. It was normal for those who'd been victimized by some to feel relieved when they could no longer harm them. Still, she didn't like the feeling. Enough of this, Sara thought. There's nothing I can do now, and I need to focus on keeping my emotions in check. At least I've had practice. Sara gave a slight chuckle, causing Grissom to shoot one of his questioning looks her way. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled apologetically.

"I'm not even going to ask," Grissom said, causing Sara to laugh. She enjoyed this playful side of him, and had missed it the past few years. She hoped this playfulness would continue back in Vegas. "Now, lets take a look at this shall we?" Grissom asked, still smiling. "Lets see if we have a psychopath on our hands."

Sara faked a smile and watched Grissom open the file. Paper clipped to the top was her mother's autopsy head shot. He face was badly bruised but Sara could still see traces of the beautiful woman her mother had been. Underneath the picture was her mother's name and address, which of course was the same as their vic. She'd forgotten Grissom wasn't aware of this.

"Well, there's coincidence number one," He said and continued reading.

Sara had been right, the stab wounds were almost in the same spots as … Melanie! That had been her name. Sara remembered seeing a monogrammed bag in her bed room.

The more they read, the more each was sure the two murders were related. But there were still thinks that indicated they were each a crime of passion, not necessarily premeditated. The position of the bodies and where they had been found was almost identical. That with the fact that it was the same house was enough to decide that this case was now part of the investigation.

However, the more they read, more memories assaulted Sara. Almost all were bad, and each made looking at hr mothers photograph more and more difficult. She was glad when Grissom shut the folder.

"But why now?" Sara asked at one point. "If this is the same person, if it is Abby," She choked her old name out. "Why did she wait almost twenty years and why Melanie?"

"I don't know," Grissom sighed. "You right, it doesn't seem to add up. But either way I think we should treat this as one investigation."

"Ha! I knew they were related!" Sara's and Grissom's heads shot up, having not heard the new arrival enter the room.

"Hello Randy," Sara couldn't bring herself to say his last name. It was the same as the judge who'd presided over her mother's trial. She detested that man.

"Hello to you too, miss Sidle," He said. Uh oh, Sara thought. She recognized that look. No, there was no way this, this, annoying child could have a crush on her. She glanced over at Grissom in hope of some indication that she'd been wrong, but his set jaw told her he recognized it too. Damn! She resisted the urge to throw her head her hands and let out a very frustrated scream. Things between Grissom and I had been going so well, she thought, and now he has to mess that up too. Now she really wanted to punch him.

"We were just looking over Leigha Summers murder investigation." Grissom didn't even bother saying hello. This day was going from bad to worse, very quickly.

"So I heard," Randy said, once again seemingly unfazed by Grissom's tone. He was either really naive or really stupid. Sara figured it was probably the latter.

"If you need any help with that case, I'll be glad to lend a hand. I know this case forwards and backwards." Randy shot an _impressed yet_? look at Sara. She thought she was going to throw up.

"Well, it would be helpful if we could talk to some one who knew Abby, get their impression on this whole thing, not some unbiased report," Sara said, not really caring if there was venom in her voice. Randy seemed taken aback. Good, Sara thought, maybe now you'll leave me alone. But to see Sara's dismay, she saw a look of resolve in his eyes, as if to say, _If you want to play hard to get, fine with me_. Would nothing derail this stupid man?

"Yes, actually. Her uncle is a retired SFPD cop. He lives on the other side of town. I can drive you if you want." Sara wasn't the only one who picked up that he was speaking only to her.

When Grissom stood, Sara did too. She could tell he wanted to get out of there just as much as she did. He grabbed her elbow and steered her towards the door. "I'm sure we can find it on our own," He snapped as the both left the room.

He didn't let go of her until they were out by his car. Neither were really sure what to say, since they both knew his actions were due to something they both never discussed. After a couple minutes of not speaking, Sara finally broke the silence. "Its still not late, we can go visit Abby's uncle."

Grissom turned to look at her, she saw the turmoil in his eyes, but didn't acknowledge it. He nodded, and started to get in the car when he stopped. "Only problem is we don't know where he lives."

"I got us covered." Sara pulled out her cell phone and dialed Carson's number. "Hey," She said when he answered. "I know this is kinda short notice, but do you happen to have Bill Summers's address handy?" She figured he would have to get back to her but he surprised her by saying, "I actually have it right in front of me. I pulled John's file as well, in case you guys need it." He gave her the address and after they exchanged goodbyes, hung up.

"Let's go find out about Abigail."

* * *

Yes, I know another short one, but I wanted to get this one out before I had to go to dinner. (: In the next chapter, Sara see's her uncle for the first time in twenty years. If that doesn't scream interesting I don't know what does (: Once again please review (:


	4. Chapter 4

I was distracted all dinner with this story and even wrote the first part on my iPod because it wouldn't leave me alone (: Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten, they brighten my day (:

Disclaimer: Once again I claim no ownership, sadly ):

* * *

The beginning of the car ride was quiet. Sara's reason for the silence was that she was trying to get her mind around seeing her uncle again. It had seemed like a good idea when she was trying to get away from Randy and then outside with Grissom, but now that she realized what it would mean, she was completely dreading it. She hadn't spoken to her uncle in twenty years, and with good reason too. If only she had remembered it before she opened her stupid mouth.

Bill had been her most favorite person in the world, aside from her father. She idolized him, told him she wanted to be a cop just like him. He would laugh and ruffle her hair and say, "Someday, Brownie. Someday, you'll be out there kicking ass." Her father had scolded him for the language but Sara didn't care. Bill thought she was going to be a great cop, and his opinion was all that mattered. Now, Sara didn't even want to look at him.

When her father died, Sara knew she had someone to turn to. Some one who knew the truth and would be there for her. She had been wrong. He didn't believe her, and he eventually became a witness for her mother's defense. She had felt so betrayed. This man was her father's brother. How could he think such of thing of him? After a few unsuccessful attempts on Bill's part to salvage their relationship after the trail, Sara vowed to never speak to the man again. And now here she was, on her way to see him. At least he no longer knew what she looked like. That was a plus of being gone so long. And with a new name, Sara was sure there was no chance of him figuring it out.

Halfway there Sara felt Grissom's eyes on her. She glanced away from the road. "What?" She asked.

"So, the uncle's name is William Summers?"

Sara nodded, not sure where this was going. "Yes, but everyone calls him Bill."

"And you know this because…?"

Sara almost had a heart attack. Oh, my God! She thought. How could I have made such a stupid mistake. His name had not been anywhere in Leigha's folder and Randy had not said it either. She couldn't believe she'd slipped up and it was just her first day here. If this was the precedent for the rest of the investigation, she would end up getting herself arrested. She had to be more careful.

Sara was running out of time to come up with an excuse. Grissom was still eyeing her and her mind was blank. Just when she thought all hope was lost an idea popped into her head.

"He is a retired SFPD cop. He was a recently retired cop when I first started here and he's the brother of a famous murder victim. His name tended to come up frequently." Sara snuck a glance at Grissom to see how he took it. It hadn't all been a lie. He had retired when she first started working, but she couldn't recall one instance where his name was ever even mentioned.

When Grissom nodded, Sara released the breath she'd been holding. "I guess that would make sense. But the way you said, it sounded like you know him."

"Nope," Sara said, almost bitterly. "Never knew him." At least that part wasn't a lie.

The rest of the ride was in silence, even though Sara was fuming on the inside, mental calling Randy everything she could think of for causing things to become more awkward between her and Grissom. If I could get my hands on him, I would do … her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her uncle's house.

It was a big house, nothing like the tiny thing he used to own. It too was made of red bricks. It two bay windows, one the top floor and one of the bottom. The outline of the windows were white and complemented the color of the bricks perfectly. The lawn was perfectly manicured, the flowers were just starting to bloom on all the trees. The place looked beautiful. She resisted the urge to throw a rock through one of his windows, just to destroy the surreal look it had. Sara let Grissom be the one slightly in front and let him ring the bell. That way if she decided to lunge for his throat she had him in her way to stop her.

"Just a minute!" was the almost immediate reply to the doorbell. Sara recognized his voice instantly, and almost groaned out loud. Even though there was a car in the driveway, Sara had been holding onto the possibility that he might not be home. She knew it was a slim chance but confirming his presence made her feel worse.

They waited for another minute before the door was thrown open. The man behind it fit the house. He was older, had white hair and was balding. He was dressed casually in a polo and jeans. He had been retired for years yet still looked in good shape. He still looks like he could attack four linebackers and come out a winner, Sara thought, referring to what her mother had always said about him. She'd forgotten that sense of security that came with being around him. She had always felt like the world could come tumbling down but if she was with him, everything would be alright.

His eye's flicked back and forth between Sara and Grissom before asking, "Who are you?" His tone wasn't accusatory, just curious. Sara let Grissom speak.

"I'm Gil Grissom, and this is Sara Sidle and we're working with the San Francisco Crime Lab. Are you William Summers?"

"Yes, that's me. Now would you kindly explain what two non San Franciscan's want with an old cop like me?"

"We're originally from Las Vegas, we came down to help out after the--"

"Ah, yes the cop scandal. I bet that really killed the department." Summers interjected.

"Yes, so we're here working a case that has striking similarities to your sister-in-law's murder from twenty years ago," Grissom continued.

Summers sighed. "And here I thought they finally put all that stuff to rest. You do realize I'm not fond of talking about that part of my life?"

"We're sorry to cause you any distress, but we would like to find out about your niece. It could help us find her, and possibly put a serial murder behind bars." Grissom said.

"Fine, you may come in. But please can we make this short?" Summers asked.

"As short as possible." Grissom replied.

Bill opened the door wider and let them pass. If he recognized Sara or thought she looked familiar, it didn't show on his face. He ushered them both into the living room and gestured for them to take the what he called a couch but what looked like an oversized love seat. Sara and Grissom exchanged a brief look before sitting down, both pretending not to notice that from the feet to their knees were touching.

"Just one question, before we get started. Isn't this normally the detective's job?" Bill asked.

Sara and Grissom glanced at one another. "Well, yes," Sara was still letting Grissom do all the talking. "but since the majority of the staff just got fired…"

"Oh yes you're shorthanded now. Of course. So now, let's get this over with shall we?"

"Yes. We just want to know if you think your niece is capable of murdering not only her mother, but our murder victim as well?"

"Well, honestly I never thought she was capable of killing her mother in the first place. Then again I didn't think my brother could be abusive. My opinions of people, as you can tell, aren't always accurate."

"Your opinion would still be helpful, even if it wasn't spot on." Grissom encouraged.

"Look, I loved Abby, I still do. She's my only niece and I'd still do anything for her. Our relationship my have ended when my brother died, but I tried to make things better. She said no. I haven't seen her in twenty years, as much as I've wanted to contact her, I've honored her decision and left her alone. I don't know what she's like now, but back then she hated her mother and any one who believed her. But I didn't and still don't think Abby could've killed any one, no matter how much hatred their was between her and the other person. Some one close to Leigha killed her but I don't think it was Abby."

"Why didn't you say this when she died?" Sara spoke for the first time. As much as she tried to refrain, she couldn't help it.

"I didn't want anything to do with it. My big brother was dead, his daughter refused to speak to me and now my sister-in-law was dead as well. I wanted to put that bad part of my life behind me and the best way I saw about doing that was keeping my mouth shut."

Sara's mouth got the better of her again. "I wonder if that's why she doesn't want to see you anymore. Maybe she thinks you don't give a damn about her and she might even question whether you ever did." There was no masking the anger in her voice.

Bill blinked. He seemed shocked for a moment then he got angry as well. "Don't you dare put in your input like you know anything. My relationship with my niece is none of your business." His glare accented his words. "Now, I think we're done here. If you would please get out of my house."

* * *

No words were spoken between Grissom and Sara until they were inside the car. Grissom opened his mouth to speak but Sara held her hand up. "I know, I screwed up, ok? I just…he…ugh. I got angry," she sighed.

"You could have hindered the entire investigation. You do realize that don't you?"

"Oh, come on Grissom! Like you've never gotten pissed at a suspect. It happens. We just have to try and make the best of it."

"And while we're still on the subject." Grissom's voice held less venom but he was still obviously mad. "What was the reason behind you getting so mad?" Sara gave him a look that clearly said _none of your business_. "You almost mess up our investigation and I don't have a right to know why?"

Sara was really pissed now. Who was he to ask that? "Oh, so I have to tell you every reason behind every mood I'm in yet when you get pissed beyond belief at something as stupid as, oh I don't know, not responding to your page quick enough, no one is allowed to question it. Yeah, because that's not hypocritical." Sara got out of the car and slammed the door shut. She heard Grissom open and shut his.

"Where are you going?" He asked, still angry.

"I need to be alone," She said as she walked further away from the car. "I'll catch a cab back."

"Sara, if you think I'm letting you wonder around here by yourself--"

"Its daylight, Grissom, plus I'm armed, and I used to live here remember? It's not like I'm completely clueless. I'll be fine. Now leave me alone." This time she heard a car door open and shut again, and heard the car start. She turned back just in time to see him drive off.

Sara sat down on the side of the rode. She needed to think. The thing with Grissom would be ok. He'd forgive her and she him. Life would go on. No, the thing she had to think about was what Bill had said. He didn't think she was a killer. That was a good thing. She'd always wondered that. He said he still loved her. But Sara was still having a hard time getting around the fact that he didn't believe her. That he could think something so horrible about her father. She had heard his testimony on the stand, but those weren't always truthful. He had sat down with lawyers and discuss what to say and how to say it. That's not the truth. Sara wanted to know the really reason. She needed to know the real reason. She looked back at her uncle's house. "Screw it," she said before getting up and heading back to his house.

"I thought I told you to leave." Bill was standing in his doorway. He looked around. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"Boss," She corrected.

"Whatever."

Sara pushed past him into the house. "Why didn't you believe Abby?"

"The answer to that question can be found in old trail transcripts, now get that ass out of my house." He held the door open and gestured with his hand.

Sara ignored it. "I don't want the version you were told to say. I want to know what made you decide that John Summers was an abusive husband and father."

"Lady, that's none of your damn business."

"You're a retired cop, yet you can afford a house as big as this." Sara made a slow circle, openly staring at the different pieces of furniture. "You must be getting some good social security checks."

"I do some side jobs," He shrugged but looked uneasy. "Now, unless you want to get arrested for trespassing--"

"How much did they pay you?"

"Who? The people I do jobs for?"

"No, Leigha Summers' defense team."

He stared at Sara, mouth agape. "I don't know what the hell your talking about. Now--"

"Of course you do. You were a young cop, you weren't making much. I bet she came to you before hand and said, "Hey, I'm gonna off my husband. Wanna help me get away with it? I've got a way to get a lot of money too. I'll give you half if you help." You probably couldn't help yourself."

"No, that's not what happened. You see, she--"

"So they did pay you?" Sara thought she was going to be sick.

Bill sighed. "Yes, ok. They paid me to testify that he was abusive. But you have to understand. I did it for Abby."

That stopped Sara in her tracks. "What?"

"I knew what kind of person Leigha was. I tried to get John to leave her but he wouldn't leave without Abby and he was sure he could safely get her out. I was gonna use the money to fight for custody. But then Abby refused to speak to me, Leigha was sent to a mental place, the only "time" she had to do for murdering my brother and Abby ended up in foster care. You have to understand, I tried to tell her this, but how do you explain that to a nine year old? And she wouldn't talk to me. I finally gave up. That's also why I didn't say anything when Leigha died. If I said I thought Abby didn't do it, they might question why, when earlier I had testified that Abby was "a brainwashed lunatic who was taught to despise her mother." Of all people I should believe she did it. There was nothing I could do."

Sara's brain couldn't keep up with what he was telling her. He did it for her? Would she let herself believe that? She'd spent so many years hating him, could she believe him? Sara felt more confused than before she asked. Before she could formulate a response, her uncle started speaking again.

"Now that you know my tragic life story, if your ass isn't out of this house in five seconds, I'm calling the police. Five. Four. Three--"

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Sara interrupted again. "Once I was older, you could've found me if you wanted to. Why didn't you track me down and explain it to me? You claim that you did it for me yet you gave up on me. I was nine years old, Bill. Of course I wouldn't understand. I barely understood what was happening with my own mother. Yet when I needed you, you gave up on me."

Bill didn't speak for a moment. He just stood there, staring. Sara could almost hear him thinking, _is that her_? He seemed to decide it wasn't. "Now, lookie here missy, if you think a trick like that is going to work on a seasoned cop like me--"

"Your nickname for me was Brownie. You let me pick it out on my sixth birthday, the only requirement being it had to be chocolate related. When I turned seven, you got me a necklace with a brownie on it to match the one with the crown that my father gave me. But, when I was eight, the chain got caught on my shirt and it broke when you and Dad tried to get it unhooked. You said we'd get another chain but we never did."

Bill's hand had migrated to his mouth during her explanation. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Oh, my God. It's really you."

"Why'd you give up on me, Bill?"

"I thought if I stayed around you'd end up hating me more. I figured if I left you alone, we might be able to fix things between us one day."

"Is it one day yet?" Sara didn't know why she was all of sudden ready to trust him again, but she felt like she needed to take the plunge, see where it led her. Besides, she needed his help.

Bill smiled at her. "I believe so."

"Good, because I'm gonna need your help if I have any chance of finding Mom's killer without getting myself arrested."

"Yeah, that would kinda put a damper on things."

"Yes, it would. So, you gonna help me?"

"Of course. I'm your uncle, it's what we do." His grin was contagious.

"I know this is a bad time to mention this but, I have no plan whatsoever."

"Are kidding me? That's my favorite kind of plan. Your dad and I used to get away with a lot stuff with "no plan whatsoever." I can definitely help with this."

"Good," Sara smiled at him. It was good to be able to talk to him again. She'd missed him. Maybe, she thought, this was a good idea after all.

* * *

Ok, my mom "stole" the pc the other night that's why this wasn't out sooner, and since I couldn't write then I decided to give you a really long one (: I hope you guys enjoyed it and don't worry the fight will be resolved next chapter. I mean who could keep Grissom and Sara mad at each other, really? (: Once again, please review (:


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews (: They make me happy (: sorry I haven't started on this sooner, but school just started up again. However, we have a snow day today making it a long weekend (: hopefully I'll be able to get a few chapters out (:

Disclaimer: I own nothing except season's four and seven on DVD.

* * *

Sara and Bill were back in his living room, trying to come up with some sort of plan. Before they could get any where, however, Sara's phone rang. The voice on the other end sounded upset and worried.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Grissom, calm down, ok? I'm fine, I went back and talked to Summers," Sara told him. Bill gave her a look that clearly asked if his boyfriend assumption had been correct. Sara gave him a sarcastic one back.

"After how mad he was at you, you went back?" Grissom's voice was no where near being calm.

"I apologized for what I said and was able to get him to talk to me. He's not a bad person Griss," Sara never thought she'd hear herself describing him that way. She glanced at Bill and saw he had a wide smile on his face. Sara returned it.

"Well, fine, but I'm on my way. They found a social worker that Abby had gotten close to. She might be able to shed a little bit more light on the situation than an uncle that she refused to speak to."

Sara's smile froze. She knew who he was referring to. She had helped Sara change her last name when she turned eighteen. Of course she would adamantly tell them how there was no way Sara could kill her mother. But if she spoke too much…this could be bad. Thankfully, Carrie Simpkins was the only one who knew what her last name was now. Hopefully she would recognize her before giving away too much.

"Ok, I'll finish up here and meet you outside," Sara said into the phone.

"I'll be there in five," He said before hanging up.

Sara shut the phone and turned to face her uncle. He was giving her an odd look. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," He replied.

"No, don't play that game with me, Bill. What?"

"Grissom and Abby sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-"

"You are extremely immature, did you know that?" Sara voice showed her aggravation.

"Oh, c'mon, I can't have a little fun with my niece?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Not at her expense."

"Ok, fine. But you're not going to keep me in the dark. You're my only niece, it's my job to make sure nothing happens to you. He's good to you, right?"

Sara was not about to get into that discussion. "Look, my relationship with my _boss_, is non of your concern at the moment. And if you don't start calling me Sara, this whole thing is going to be over before it starts."

"Good point, _Sara_," He stressed her name. "But you're wrong. It is my concern, and it will always be my concern. I promised you dad that if anything happened, I'd take care off you."

"Yeah, you certainly have done a great job over the last twenty years." Sara's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes were wide. "Oh, my God, Bill. I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did. And you're right. I didn't do a good job. But I can make up for it now, can't I?" His voice had become softer.

"Yeah," Sara answered, smiling. Just then a horn honked.

"He's not even gonna come in?"

"I don't think he likes you very much at the moment, Bill."

He laughed. "Yeah, good point. So does he know?" Sara shook her head. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know. He's very firm believer of "people lie, evidence doesn't." What if he doesn't believe I'm innocent if I tell him? I couldn't bear that."

"I'm sure he will, but it's your decision. Although he might come in handy." Bill said, a suggestive smile on his face.

"I know, but I just can't right now."

Bill smiled in understanding. "Tell him when you're ready, sweetheart. But I do want to find out about him. Don't make me have use my," He paused for dramatic effect, "other skills." He face now had a mock dangerous look covering it.

Sara laughed. "Later, I promise. Now, give me your cell number so I can call you."

He gave it to her and they said their goodbye's before Sara left the house and got in Grissom's car.

"What took you so long?" He was still agitated.

"I was just getting his number," she showed him the card with it on it. "and apologizing again. Now i need to do the same to you. I'm sorry for what I said." Even though I was right, she thought.

"No, I'm sorry for how I acted. I had no right to pry into your personal feelings, and I should have dropped when you admitted your mistake. And you have no reason to apologize, I was being a hypocrite."

Sara had a hard time keeping her jaw from dropping. It wasn't that Grissom admitted to being wrong, but that he had said it with such, emotion. This wasn't like Grissom at all. "Even so," she said when her voice was back, "I had no right to say it the way I did. Please forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me."

"Deal." She looked up to see Grissom's eyes on hers. He was looking at her with such an emotional look that it made Sara's stomach do summersaults. But then Grissom blinked and it was gone.

"Good," he said, he voice a little shaky. Sara decided not to comment on it.

Grissom put the car in gear and the started to drive towards another person from Sara's past. This one, however, she was excited about seeing her old friend. It had been years since they'd spoken. Hopefully while Sara was here they could catch back up.

* * *

Yea, I know it's short, but I wanted to go ahead and get this out incase something came up and I wouldn't be able to. Please, please review. Now that all the snow melted, I have nothing to make my day better (:


	6. Chapter 6

Ok, I said last chapter that I would update quickly because of the long weekend, well my internet went out the next day so I was unable to post this. ): I have been writing all week in my school notebook, though and I'm now typing it (: This chapter is from another characters point of view, I will probably do this every now and then, just to kinda show what other characters think. Next chapter will be back to Sara's point of view. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Wait, I think I might own one of them. Hang on let me check. (five minutes go by) Nope. Must have been my imagination. Darn.

Carrie Simpkins had been a social worker for over 20 years. During that time, she'd grown not only as a worker, but as a person. She was no longer the young, green girl who sympathized with every child she worked with. Some children were just bad. She had learned that the hard way. She'd stuck her hand in the fire one to many times and had an everlasting scare from the burn. Some children discovered how to move on after their experiences. Others were forever changed, and not necessarily in a good way.

Abigail Summers was one of those good children, born into an unfortunate family. Abby may not have spoken much to any one else, but she had found a friend in Carrie. It was obvious to Carrie that Abby was intelligent. As

their friendship formed, Carried observed that instead of acting out or taking drugs, school had become Abby's escape.

"It's the one thing in my life I can control," she'd said. It had torn at Carrie's heart to know a tragedy like this would forever haunt Abby. Not just emotionally, but it would also play a role in any future job attempt, or anything of similar nature. That's why Carrie eventually helped her change her name, and she was glad to know that Abby's life could be better because of it.

When Carrie got the call that a CSI wished to speak to her and mentioned Abby's name, it had made her furious. She was polite and professional on the phone of course, but inside she was seething. They had no right to drag Leigha's case back up. Abby had been tormented enough the first time around. And if they found her? Carrie didn't want to think about that.

She straightened things up on her desk and pulled Abby's file. She had been eighteen when she changed her name so it wasn't required that Carrie document it, so she didn't. She may have lost touch with Abby, but she would do everything in her power to keep her safe.

There was a knock on her door. She called for them to come in and sized up the two people who came to talk to her.

The first to enter was a man. He was older with salt and pepper hair and beard and bright blue eyes. He wore blue slacks and a blue jacket over a dark green polo. His ID tag read Gil Grissom. This was the man she spoke to on the phone.

The person behind him turned out to be a woman. She had hair and eyes as dark as chocolate and was wearing jeans and dark red blouse. The blouse had a pocket, and hanging out of it was her ID. When Carrie got a look at the name on it, her mouth fell open.

"Hello. My name is Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle. We're with the crime lab and we'd…" Carrie realized her mouth was still open and she'd been staring. She saw Mr. Grissom glance between her and his partner. "Is everything alright, Ms. Simpkins?"

Sara shot her a pleading look. Carrie cleared her throat. "Yes, everything's fine. I just thought I…never mind. Now, you said on the phone you wanted to talk about Abby Summers?"

The questioning look on Mr. Grissom's face didn't quickly dissipate. "Yes, I understand her had a relationship with her?"

"Yes, I was assigned as her social worker. We ended up becoming quite close. She's a sweet girl."

"There are a few people who would disagree with that last statement."

"Yes, Mr. Grissom, most people wouldn't agree. But they didn't know her. She didn't talk much to anyone else, but she talked to me. Everyone thinks she's just this brainwashed, psychotic kid who was full of revenge, but that wasn't her. She's extremely intelligent and was by definition a good kid. She was sweet, helpful, loving, and caring. Her life was turned upside down, yet she never let it get to her. She pushed on, and was determined to put the past behind her. To this day I haven't met anyone like her. Anyone with chance to get to know her is truly lucky."

Carrie glanced at Sara and saw the sweet, affectionate look that was on her face. She smiled back. That was when she realized they were all still standing. "Please, have a seat, both of you."

Each thanked her before taking a seat in front of her desk. She had stood up when they entered the room, so she sat back down as well.

"I assume you have more questions for me."

"Yes," Grissom said. "Did any of the foster homes she was placed in complain about her?"

Carrie was hesitant to answer. She met Sara's eyes. "Yes, there was one." Carrie looked back down at the file. From a Mr. and Mrs. Parks. They got into an argument just a few days after Abby was placed there. Not long after the screaming started Abby showed up and pushed Mrs. Parks. She broke her ankle. They requested that Abby be removed from their home."

"Do you have an address for them, Ms. Simpkins?"

"Yes." Carrie took out a pad of Post-Its and copied it down. "You have to understand, that was Abby first foster home. She was used to her parents yelling at one another. She acted instinctively."

"She pushed her hard enough to break her ankle, Ms. Simpkins. That doesn't sound like a sweet and loving girl."

Carrie was no longer smiling. "Abby had just been through a very traumatic experience Mr. Grissom. Seeing her foster parents fight was bound to bring up some unwanted memories. She reacted. That's all."

"And if she happened to see her mother again? That would bring up some unwanted memories. I wonder how she would react to that?" Grissom pursed his lips.

"She was evaluated by Dr. Jason Jones, a psychiatrist, after the incident. You want the answer to that question? Ask him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork I need to attend to. You know where the door is." Carrie turned her eyes to her desk but looked up at the sound of her name.

"If you remember anything important, give us a call." Sara handed her a small piece of paper with her cell on it. Carrie nodded to her. "Text me," Sara whispered. Carrie nodded again and smiled.

"Will do," Carrie said. "Now," She tilted her head. "the door?"

Yea, sorry. That took forever! I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible (: please review. They make me happy. (:


	7. Chapter 7

Ok, I know it's been absolutely forever, and I'm so sorry! Things have been really hectic lately. But I've graduated, changed houses, moved into college and things are finally settling down. So here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: As much I as was looking forward to seeing the entire cast of CSI on my doorstep on my birthday this year, it didn't happen. So they're not mine. ):

* * *

"That went well," Grissom commented as they climbed in the car.

"Yes, well, it wasn't like you were Mr. Nice Guy either in there, Griss." Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You accused her good friend of murder and you expected her to not be defensive? She's just being a good friend."

"She could be protecting a murderer, Sara."

Sara turned in her seat. "Or she could be protecting an innocent victim." Her tone was lethal.

Grissom's head swiveled in Sara's direction. "Why are you so adamant to prove her innocence?"

"Why are you so adamant to prove she's guilty?" she threw back at him.

"Sara." He sighed and maneuvered the car towards their hotel, "The evidence—"

"Oh bullshit, Grissom. You know as well as I do evidence can be faked. People can manipulate it to say whatever they want. If you were a little more open minded, you would see it."

"Then show me an inconsistency, Sara. Find a place where it doesn't add up. You accuse me of being narrow minded when you refuse to accept any other possibility. Prove your assumptions, Sara." Grissom pulled the car into the hotel. Before the car was fully parked, Sara was out the door.

"Don't worry, Grissom," She said, slamming the door, "I will."

* * *

Sara surveyed the room, eyes bouncing from person to person. Finally they rested on a familiar face and she moved towards her.

"Sara!" Carrie Simpkins exclaimed as she engulfed her friend into a giant bear hug. "Damn, it's been to long my friend."

"I know, Carrie. I've been meaning to come and visit but things always seem to get in the way." They both took their seats. "How have you been?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? That was some intense meeting today."

"I was hoping we could at least order something before this topic came up," Sara said. The waiter appeared to take their drink orders and when Sara ordered a beer Carrie gave her a questioning look.

"Aren't you on the clock?" she asked as the waiter walked away.

"After the day, no after the week I've had, this is well deserved. And I'll order water after it." Sara smiled her thanks as their drinks were placed in front of them. "So how have you been?"

"I've been great. Derek and I celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary a few months ago. Let's see, Anthony turned four a couple weeks—"

"Anthony? You had a kid?" Sara eyes lit up.

"Two actually," Carrie said, her face glowing. "Anthony and Megan. Meg will be two in about five months." She whipped out her phone and pulled up pictures.

"Oh, my God, Carrie! They're so beautiful!"

"Thanks. They're a handful though. Meg is going to give Tony a run for his money when she gets older, she's a feisty one." Carrie laughed.

"Like her mother," Sara commented with a chuckle that Carrie shared.

The two spent the next catching up on things. Carrie told cute stories about her children while Sara talked about some of the interesting cases they'd had in Vegas. It wasn't until dessert that Carrie broached the subject of their earlier meeting again.

"I don't know what to do, Carrie. What if I screw up and get myself arrested?"

"Then I'll bail you out," Carrie told her simply. "And we'll catch the bastard who framed you."

Sara nodded. "Oh! Did I mention I saw Bill?"

At Carrie's head shake, Sara ran through the story of her encounters with her uncle. She attempted to gloss over the fight she'd had with Grissom in between the two times she talked to her uncle, but Carrie pressed for the info. After she was done, Sara took a long gulp of her water.

"Wow. Well at least he's on our side now," Carrie said.

"Yeah," Sara laughed bitterly, "Because having three people instead of two is really going to make a difference."

"Hey, you never know. Plus there's always Gris—"

Sara cut her off. "No."

"Why?"

"Just, no."

"Sara, you have to tell him eventually," Carrie said gently.

"What am I supposed to say exactly? Yes, Griss I got that file you wanted, oh by the way, I'm the person you're trying to put away for murder. Yeah, because that's going to make my life so much easier."

"You never know. He could—"

"No. He stays in the dark. Period."

* * *

Sara shuffled through her hotel door. She leaned against the door for a moment, letting her head drift back and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, the day's events was finally sinking in. The lack of a good night sleep before she got here didn't help either.

Dumping her purse on the counter, she made her way to her bed atop of which her suitcase lay, still zipped. Opening it, she grabbed her usual sleeping attire, a big shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. After she finished getting ready, she climbed into bed, grabbing a book she'd been trying to read for almost a month now. She knew she wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon, the threat of nightmares out weighing the pleasures of drifting off, and welcomed the distraction her book posed.

She was three pages past where she'd started when there was a loud banging against her door. Sighing, Sara closed her book and stumbled to the door, right as the banging sounded again. Glancing through the peephole, she groaned and threw open the door.

"What is so important that you insist on waking the entire floor?" Sara asked, not masking her irritation.

"Are you ignoring everyone's calls or just mine?" Grissom countered.

"My cell phone died Griss, sorry for the inconvenience." Sara lied. She'd wanted one night with a good friend without work coming in and ruining it so she'd turned her phone off. It was still laying at the bottom of her purse, untouched from when she'd shut it off early, having forgotten to turn it back on upon her return to the hotel.

Grissom didn't stop firing questions. "Where have you been all evening?"

"I was having dinner with an old friend. Last time I checked that wasn't a crime." She glared. She caught the look on his face and felt no need to correct his assumption that her old friend was a man. Let him think what he wants, she thought, it's none of his business who I see.

"You were gone a long time."

"We had a lot of catching up to do." They eyed each other, daring the other to back down first. Sara looked away, too tired to fight anymore. "What do you want, Grissom? What was so important that you were in desperate need to get ahold of me?"

"We found Abby's foster parents, the one she injured. We have an appointment tomorrow to visit and talk to them."

Sara sighed. They were the last people she wanted to see right now, or ever is she was honest. "Well, I'm sure two people don't need to talk to them. You should go do it, I'll talk to the uncle again, see if he remembers anything else."

Grissom gave her a quizzical look. "Are you sure?" Sara nodded her head. After a pause, Grissom stepped forward into the room a bit. "Are you ok, Sara?" he asked in a gentle tone.

Sara nodded again. "Yeah, I'm fine." At Grissom's disbelieving look, she sighed and continued. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

"Do you want me to get you something? Sleeping pill maybe?" he asked kindly.

"No, I'll be fine."

"If anything happens, Sara, I'm just next door."

Sara smiled. "I know."

* * *

I am so sorry that took so long! But there it is! :) I'll try to get the next one up as soon as possible. :) Please, Please review! They really make my day!


	8. Chapter 8

Ok, guys, here's another one :) I should be writing papers but my brain just doesn't want to right now.

Disclaimer: Not mine :(

* * *

_There was a loud boom, causing little Abby to run from her bed desperately searching for her father so he could calm her fears. Shouting could be heard once she got to the hallway and it momentarily delayed her search. She crept towards the end, watching what appeared to be her parents standing face to face at the bottom of the stairs fighting once again. She froze in fear as the loud boom sounded again, her father falling to the ground, her mother standing over him, knife in hand._

Once again, Sara woke just in time to keep from screaming. Falling back against the sweaty sheets, she tried to calm down. These nightmares are going to be the death of me, she thought. Checking the clock, she groaned when she noticed the date on the bottom. She got up and stumbled into the bathroom to shower, hoping to wash away the dream. Halfway through, when the tears were streaming down her face at full force did she finally pause, a slight sob escaping her lips. With everything that happened the day before she'd completely forgotten about the date and felt guilty for doing so. Guilty, for almost forgetting the anniversary of her father's death.

She had just finished getting dressed when there was a knock at the door. Walking through the tiny room, she opened the door to reveal Grissom, a small smile on his face and two coffee cups in his hands.

"Good morning," he said. "I figured you could use this." He handed her the cup.

"Thank you." Sara smiled before taking a big gulp.

"You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just grab my purse."

The car ride to the lab was silent, neither really offering much for conversation. Sara was too engrossed about thoughts of her father and her dream, which was more of a memory, to be very talkative. She wondered if she'd be able to get away and visit her father's grave, but figured it'd be too risky if someone found her there.

* * *

"Isn't that awesome?"

"What?" Sara asked, having not been paying attention, although considering who was speaking Sara didn't feel all the sorry for it.

"I said," Randy sounded slightly annoyed at having to repeat his statement. "Isn't it awesome that we happen to be investigating a murder similar to Leigha's on the anniversary of her husband's death?"

"Oh, yeah," Sara rolled her eyes. The sound of those words out loud hurt more than ever, but she didn't let on. "It's just wonderful." The sarcasm was blatantly obvious. Despite everything, she smiled a little when she heard Grissom chuckle.

"Well, anyway, QD wanted me to drop this off." Randy finally seemed a little put off by Sara's attitude towards him and Sara couldn't but be glad her shitty day was put to good use. Grissom nodded his thanks and goodbye, while Sara just sat down, opening up her mother's file.

"We got the letters back," Grissom told her, his tone gentle and not even hinting at the arguments that had taken place the day before. She was surprised at the change, but great full. She couldn't deal with arguing with him. Not today.

"What'd they find?"

"Nothing helpful. The only prints on them are hers."

"What?" Sara asked, intrigued now. "There have to be someone else's finger prints on there. She wasn't writing them to herself."

"Whoever it was went to great lengths to remain anonymous." Grissom sighed, the letters dropping onto the table.

"This means we're probably dealing with an affair. Well, there went the lets-ask-the-family idea."

"Are you sure they wouldn't know?"

"If he did all this just to keep from getting caught in case the shit hit the fan, he probably had her on a strict understanding that his name was never to be revealed." Sara picked up the letters and began thumbing through them, words flying past barely registering in her mind. Until...she paused. There on the paper was a word she thought she'd never hear or see again. The sight of it was enough to make her feel like she had just stepped off a _Tilt-a-Whirl_, her stomach twisting, threatening to expel the coffee she consumed earlier. "Let me see Melanie's file," Sara choked out, almost yanking it out of Grissom hands when he held it out for her. Her eyes did a quick scan of the top sheet, with all of Melanie's personal information. Finding what she was looking for, she flipped through to the autopsy photos, finding a picture of her lower back, with a bright peach tattooed to it.

"Sara?" Grissom asked.

"Huh? Oh, Sorry. I thought I saw something important, but it turned out to be nothing."

Grissom gave her a disbelieving look but didn't question her. Putting everything back in the file, Sara stood up. "I'm going to go back and talk to Bill, see if he can be of any more help now that he's not pissed at us."

"At nine in the morning?" Grissom called after her.

"There is no time like the present. Besides, he didn't seem to be the type to sleep in." She replied, hurrying out the doors.

* * *

Sara practically jumped out of the cab when it arrived, throwing enough money to cover the tab at the driver and ran up the stairs. She made a fist and banged on the door, hard. It wasn't long before she heard a loud, "Who the hell is at my door this early in the freaking morning?" The door then flew open to revel a very flustered, groggy, grumpy Bill Summers, struggling with the tie on his pale blue robe.

"Having problems?" Sara chuckled.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yep." Sara smiled.

"Then why are you here?"

Sara stepped through the front door. "Because this couldn't wait. And I can't tell anyone else, because then they'll ask how I knew. Then I'll tell them, get arrested, and your sorry ass will have to bail me out. So, in the long run, I'm helping you out."

"If there is a point to this, could we arrive at it quickly?"

"Someone's grumpy in the morning." Sara patted down a patch of hair that was sticking straight up.

"Sara Abigail!"

"Melanie, our new vic, was having an affair with the same man my mother was."

It was silent for a good minute and a half before Bill spoke. "Are you—?"

"Yes. He called her Peach, the same name he gave to mom. And she also had a peach tattoo in the same spot mom did."

"Could it be that she just liked peaches? Sara I think you're—"

"No Bill! He capitalized the damn word! He meant it as a name. And I checked she wasn't born in Georgia, so there would be no reason for anyone to call her that. The peach on top of the all the evidence that is similar to how my mother was killed, it's the same guy. There is no other explanation." Sara plopped down on the same loveseat she had occupied the day before with Grissom.

"Ok, I believe you. So now what are we gonna do?"

"I'm gonna wrack my brain and try to remember anything I can about him," Sara sighed.

"That's probably a good—wait; I thought Leigha never took you with her when she went with her boyfriends."

"She lied, Bill. Who the hell do you think raped me? The Easter Bunny?" Sara fumed.

"Sara," Bill's voice was sympathetic. "I'm so sorry."

"No, God, I'm sorry Bill. I'm just…and then today…" She trailed off, desperate to keep the tears from falling.

"I know, Brownie," Bill soothed, the use of the old nickname finally making Sara break. "I miss him too." He wrapped his arm around her while she sobbed into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time before Sara's breathing began to slow. Bill looked down to find his niece sound asleep, the exhaustion from not sleeping and the crying finally getting the best of her. He eased her head down onto the couch, took off her shoes and placed her feet on the other end. With a kiss on her forehead and a whispered, "I love you" he headed into the kitchen to make coffee, letting his little Brownie get some much needed sleep.

* * *

Sara woke with a start a little over an hour later, dazed and confused. It took a couple looks around the room and the sound of her uncle humming to finally piece together where she was. Relaxing back into the cushions, she yawned and stretched, before sitting back up, a delicious scent assaulting her nose. She got up and shuffled into the kitchen. She found her uncle standing in front of the oven. "You're making brownies?"

Bill whipped around, having not heard her come in. "Well, look who's up!" He smiled. "And of course. They are still your favorite aren't they?"

"Of course." Sara smile back. "But really Bill, you didn't have to—"

"No buts. You've had a rough day, hell a rough week. This is the least I could do." A high pitched beep sounded and Bill shut it off, before grabbing an ovenmit and carefully pulling out the brownies.

"Mmm," Sara moaned, "The smell wonderful." As if on cue her cell phone rang. Groaning, she dashed back into the living room and rummaged through her purse. She found it just in time. "Sidle."

"Sara, are you still at Bill's?" The voice on the other end didn't fail to bring a slight smile to Sara's face.

"Yeah, Griss. I'm sorry, we got to talking and I guess we lost track of time."

"So he was more willing to talk?"

Sara sighed, gazing longingly at the brownies that were still too hot to eat. "Yes, I told you. He calmed down after I went to see him the second time. He's actually a nice guy, once you get past the whole temper thing." Bill shot her a mock angry look which she returned.

"Sounds like someone else I know," Grissom chuckled.

"Oh, you're going to regret that Dr. Grissom."

"Oh, am I, Ms. Sidle?"

Were they flirting? Sara couldn't tell. "Trust me, Grissom. I have ways. Ways of making you do whatever I want."

"I don't doubt that, Sara." Grissom said this with such emotion that Sara almost dropped the phone. Her wide eyes prompted Bill to send Sara a worried look, but she brushed it off and turned around. She heard Grissom cough into the receiver. "Anyway, I'm heading to visit the Parks' and wanted to know if maybe you had changed your mind about going."

Sara was torn. Grissom's behavior towards her after their several blowups the day before intrigued her. But as much as she wanted answers, she couldn't deal with the Parks. Not with the way her morning had been. "Actually I think it'll be better if you do it, Griss."

"Ok, just making sure." Grissom sounded a little disappointed, intriguing Sara even more. Before she could reply, Grissom spoke again. "You took a cab there, right?"

Sara's brow furrowed. "Um, yeah."

"Well, then how about when I'm done with the interview, I'll swing by and pick you up. We'll go to lunch."

Sara took the phone away from her ear and stared at it, wondering if it was somehow playing a trick on her, because that almost sounded like a date. Well, as close to a date as she was ever gonna get when it came to Grissom. When she heard, "You still there?" coming from the speaker she returned it to her ear. "Uh, yeah, still here. And yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

"Great. I'll call you when I leave the Parks'." They exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

Sara turned back to face Bill, who now held out a brownie to her. "Well, that was interesting."

"I'll say, from this end especially. You still gonna deny that he's your boyfriend?" Bill smirked.

Sara teasingly snatched the brownie out of his hand. "Who the hell makes brownies at ten in the morning anyway?"

"Sure, ok, avoid the question. Don't worry; we'll pick up this topic later."

"Of course we will." Sara bit into her brownie. Even though her week had been hell, and wasn't looking like it would get any better anytime soon and even though she was missing her father more right now than she ever had, she couldn't keep the smile the spread across her face.

* * *

Wow, I wrote this in one whole day. I haven't been able to do that in a while. Maybe now I can actually write on of the three papers I have to do. Please review! With finals coming up I'll need a good distraction from my long study sessions.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews guys :) It seems I do my best work at night, considering it is once again the wee hours of the morning and here I am, typing this for all of you :) This chapter is for my roommate, who has been asking me if I've been working on it every time I start typing. :)

Disclaimer: To own the cast of CSI, you must, spin around with your eyes closed for ten seconds, and then spin the other way. Take five steps forward, turn your head to the side, squint and stick your tongue out all while dialing 123-456-7890. Then hang up and ask for Charlie. He'll be more than happy to give them to you.

* * *

"I think I should meet him."

"Who? Grissom?" Sara asked confusion etched into her features.

"Is there another potential guy in your life that I should be worried about?"

She laughed. "No, Bill. I just…wait, didn't you already meet him?"

"No," Bill shook his head. "I met a criminalist who wanted to ask me questions about my brother's family. Now, I want to meet the man who stole my niece's little heart." The last part was accented by a dramatic sniffle and Sara was sure she even saw a few tears.

"Well, aren't we melodramatic?" Sara chuckled.

"Would you expect any less?"

"Nope."

"Seriously though, Sara, I think I should meet him."

Sara sighed. "Bill."

"Now remember, I promised your father I'd look out for you and that's what I'm going to do whether you like it or not." The look on his face made it clear the topic was no longer up for discussion.

"Fine." Sara caved. "But no embarrassing me."

"Oh of course not!" The hint of sarcasm in Bill's voice made her doubt his words, but she let it slide. For now.

Grissom called a short while later, inform Sara that he was on his way. As Sara began gathering her things, Bill proposed, "Why don't you two each lunch here? I could whip up something."

Sara laughed. "Uh, Bill, I'm still surprised you didn't catch the kitchen on fire making the brownies."

"Hey, I'm getting better. They were edible weren't they?"

"Something else that amazed me," Sara chuckled. "Seriously, though I'd prefer to just have one murder charge to worry about which won't be the case if you poison my boss."

"I wouldn't poison him! Well, at least not intentionally."

"My point exactly," Sara told him. She heard a car pull up and began making her way towards the door. When she heard Bill's footsteps behind her, she spoke again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course! Now move it missy."

Sara gave him a death glare for the nickname and opened the door, leading them towards the parked car. Grissom had had enough time to get out of the car and was standing by the driver's door. He raised an eyebrow at Sara when he noticed Bill behind her and she shook her head slightly, silently telling him not to ask.

"Mr. Summers," Grissom acknowledged.

"Dr. Grissom, it's good to see you again, now that we all have our temper under control." He looked pointedly at Sara; a small smile graced his lips letting her know he was teasing. It didn't deter her from sending him another death glare.

"Yes, I'm glad we got that all straightened out." Grissom couldn't keep the confusion off of his face.

"Now, are you sure you don't want to eat lunch here?" Bill asked.

"We're positive." Silently telling Grissom not to question her decision, she opened to passenger door, signaling it was time to get going. "It was nice talking to you, Bill. If we have any more questions we'll be sure to contact you."

"Just make sure you check the time before doing so next time. Being woken up by loud pounding at such an ungodly hour is not good for one's health." Bill smiled at them.

"Will do, Bill. Have a nice day."

Sara and Grissom climbed into the vehicle and pulled out of the driveway, Bill smiling and waving from the front porch. When they'd passed the house Grissom turned to her. "I thought you said Bill was an early riser."

* * *

They decided on a local diner for lunch, glad to see it wasn't too crowded for lunchtime on a week day. It didn't take long for them to decide what they were eating and soon the waitress was off putting in the food orders, leaving their table silent.

Grissom's attitude towards Sara was confusing her to no end. They had been at each other's throats the day before and there had been no official "make-up" moment. Yet, here they were, acting as if the couple screaming matches they'd had never took place. She debated whether to bring it up, worrying that talking about it would somehow burst the bubble and they would go back to using yelling as their main form of communication. So she stayed with the safe topics. Or, well, _safer_ topics.

"So, how did it go with the Parks'?"

Grissom, who had been taking a sip of his drink, set it down before answering. "Husband was very sympathetic of Abby Summers circumstance, kind words were all I got from him. The wife is another story. She seems to be the type that could hold a grudge forever."

Sara nodded understandably. Mrs. Parks hadn't been fond of her to begin with. The breaking of her ankle only sealed the deal as far she was concerned. There was no point in trying to reason with her.

"She also got her two cents in," Grissom continued, "about what she believed happened to Abby. After spatting off reasons why she believed the girl to be a liar, she informed me that if what happened to her was any indication, Abby was certainly capable of murdering her mother."

Great, Sara thought, just what I need. Another advocate for the dark side. Sara opened her mouth fully intent of discounting Mrs. Parks' statement, but Grissom put his finger to her lips. "You're right, she didn't know Abby well enough to deduce whether the girl would kill someone years later. However, that psychiatrist might. He's our next stop." Grissom's tone remained gentle and even awarded Sara with a grin.

Sara knew she shouldn't be so surprised at how well Grissom was able to read her mind yet she was. And while the thought of seeing Dr. Jones again was unsettling, the grin Grissom was sporting was highly contagious. The next words were out before Sara could stop them. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Confusion flashed across Grissom's face and Sara wished her big mouth hadn't ruined the conversation. Knowing there was no going back, she continued. "I mean yesterday afternoon we could barely speak two words without screaming and now, you haven't raised your voice to me all day. Not that I want you to stop being nice or anything, I just want to know why."

Grissom smiled at her again and looked like he was contemplating saying something but then finally seemed to have decided against it. When he spoke, he said, "We've been friends for quite a while Sara, and I've noticed that for some reason this day seems to be a hard one for you. I figured I could at least do my part in making it a more pleasant experience for you."

If Sara's jaw had been working properly, she would have asked to be pinched, because she had to be dreaming. She was also pretty sure her heart had just melted. People she'd been friends with since college hadn't picked up on such a subtle thing about her while Grissom, who'd know her less than a decade had already noticed that little fact. Though, the fact that he was a trained observer probably worked in his favor. "Well…uhh..."Sara stuttered, trying to regain her speaking ability. "Thank you. And you're right; this is a difficult day for me. And your kindness is greatly appreciated." The shared a smile, looking a way when their food was placed in front of them.

* * *

Yeah, I know, kinda short. But I wanted to at least get something up :) Break's almost over so my writing time will be cut in half, but I'll try to get something up as soon as possible! And please review! They make my day, and spur on the writing process ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Y'all must hate me! I'm so sorry for staying away for so long, but for some reason this story just wants to take forever. Thanks for all the reviews that remind me this story is not forgotten. Let's see if we can make this one a long one, shall we? :)

Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish they were mine…sadly they are not.

* * *

They finished up lunch shortly and began the journey to Dr. Jones' office. The conversation stayed light and ventured to other topics besides the case, something Sara was truly grateful for. The drive was short and before she knew it, Sara was sitting outside the office building. Some unpleasant memories were starting to surface (but then with this case when did they not?) and Sara took a deep breath, willing them to stay buried.

"Are you alright?" Grissom asked concern in his eyes. Sara nodded.

"Yeah, I'm just…uh…not feeling too well at the moment. Must have been something I ate." She lied.

Grissom nodded, some of the concern dissipating and got out of the car. Sara's nerves were on high alert. Going to Carrie's had been fine, she was a friend. But purposely entering a place where she could be recognized by an old staff member or Dr. Jones himself, neither of whom was fond of her back then, could prove to be a suicide mission. Sara hoped everything went well.

The receptionist was young and blonde and Sara gave a small sigh of relief that things were already off to a good start. Grissom introduced them and was informed that the doctor was running over with a patient but would be able to see them soon.

The waiting area looked almost exactly as Sara remembered it. Warm and very child friendly with a little toy box in the corner. Even so, Sara never did feel comfortable here.

Sara fidgeted in her chair and the woman sitting across from her gave her a funny look. Sara ignored it, leaning over to whisper to Grissom. "Is it weird that even thought this place looks all nice and cheery, it still gives me the creeps?"

"You just don't like shrinks."

Sara shrugged. "Yeah, that might have something to do with it."

A few minutes later the door at the end of the hall opened and out came a young boy who made a beeline for his mother. She stood up and hugged him, thanked the doctor for all his help before they left. Sara searched her memory but couldn't recall a single time she left this office in that good of a mood. Though Sara couldn't tell if the happiness was because of what the doctor did or because he was glad it was over. She guessed it helped if you had a loved one waiting when you got done.

"Ah, Dr. Grissom, sorry to have kept you waiting."

Dr. Stephen Jones was slender man. In his mid-forties, his dark hair was already beginning to gray at the temples. His suit was pressed and expensive as was the Rolex on his wrist. The man oozed wealth and charm, his perfectly whitened smile was supposed to be inviting. The whole sight of him was enough to make Sara inwardly grimace. His slight double take when he noticed her made Sara's stomach churn.

"Dr. Jones, I'd like you to meet my colleague Sara Sidle." Grissom turned to smile at her and Sara forced one back.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Sidle." He shook her hand. "And you as well Dr. Grissom." The doctor led them into his office. "Can interest you in something to drink? Water maybe?"

Grissom silently checked with Sara who shook her head. If anything hit her stomach she was sure she'd throw it up.

"No thank you."

Jones poured himself a glass. "Now I understand you wish to talk about a former patient of mine?"

"Yes, Abby Summers." Sara was perfectly content letting Grissom do all the talking.

"Oh, yes. Such a tragedy. She was so damaged when she came to me. I tried my hardest to get through to her, help her deal with what had happened. But some children just can't be reached, you know?"

_The only thing you tried your hardest to do was to try and convince me I was brainwashed._ Sara gritted her teeth but kept quiet.

"In the time you spent with her, what was your impression of Ms. Summers?"

"She was impressionable. Strong in her convictions, but was easily swayed with the right leverage."

Grissom frowned. "From what we've heard, she was very difficult to sway."

"Her father had a strong hold on her, yes, but he'd had years to mold her into what he wanted. Classic Stockholm syndrome."

_I was nine! What kid isn't impressionable at that age you arrogant, pompous, no good—_

"Was there anything she said or mentioned that gave any hint of her planning to go after her mother?"

Jones thought for a moment. "She never came out and said anything, but it didn't surprise me when Leigha turned up dead. Abby held a lot of resentment towards her mother for not saving her from the abuse. She even begged for her mother during her attacks."

Sara and Grissom wore matching shocked looks. "How do you know that?" Grissom asked.

"Abby underwent hypnosis during one of her last visits with me. She recalled the accounts with exceptional detail. It was heart wrenching to listen to." The emotion in the doctor's voice surprised Sara. He walked over to his filing cabinet, rummaged through a few files and pulled a small package out. He handed it to Grissom. "Here's the recording of the session."

"Dr. Jones, you can't give us that tape. It violates doctor/patient privilege."

A look Sara couldn't place crossed Jones' face. "I won't tell if you won't. It won't stand up in court and I'll deny I gave it to you. But it might help you get the evidence you need."

After some more insistence on both sides, Grissom and Sara eventually walked away with the tape. Jones' behavior at the end of the interview confused Sara, but reasoned that he knew this would be a way to get Abby for the murder. She was also just glad to get out of there.

* * *

Yeah, ok, that wasn't exactly a long one, but I wanted to get this out tonight, since it's been forever! But I'm making myself write more so maybe it won't be so long till next time. :) Please review, it makes me smile. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Well hello there, it's been a while. I'm so sorry this took so long but I seriously couldn't make it happen, every time I tried to write this chapter it wouldn't go anywhere. We're almost at the end, I think one or two more chapters after this should do it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Hahahahahaha yeah, right.

* * *

Sara was silent the entire way back to the lab, ignoring Grissom's attempts at a conversation. The anniversary of her father's death was a hard enough day without reliving all the trauma that came after it. Dealing with her former shrink was enough for Sara to seriously consider telling Grissom that she needed the rest of the day off. But her anger at the psychiatrist, for the moment at least, was strong enough to keep her going.

Sara would still rather chew off her own arm than listen to what was on that tape.

One of the reasons her parents would fight would be Leigha's many affairs. She was constantly out with other men, and when Sara's father wasn't around to watch her, Leigha normally dragged Sara with her. Despite having found a good man in John, Leigha seemed to attract the worst kind of men. 'Date nights' never just included sex, but usually some kind of drugs as well, leaving Sara to fend for herself while her mom was incapacitated. A few of them would get physical with Leigha when they were drunk or high, most left Sara alone completely. But some of them…Sara blocked out most of what happened to her then.

Those could've been the only events Sara would've talked about on that tape, the only things that someone would've needed hypnosis to reach. Unfortunately, since Sara never knew the names of the men her mom was out with, any reference to a 'he' could be taken to mean her father. And as Sara listened to her younger self talk about one of those nights, scream as she recalled one of the men knocking out her mother before going after her, Sara making the connection to her father, not a random stranger.

"He says I'm not even supposed to be here," the girl on the audio tape sobbed. "That he'd teach his little peach a lesson." Any other words were unintelligible by her crying, but it was obvious what little Abby was remembering. Sara's breath caught as she realized what she'd said. _His little _peach_. This is the man who murdered my mother._

She risked a glance at Grissom and was surprised to see that his brow was furrowed. The tape was over and she waited for him to speak, confirm what he'd murmured earlier while listening that this was no doubt about her father. But instead he promptly got up and left the room.

"Griss?" Sara called after him. She glanced at Randy, who'd wandered in just as they were about to start the tape and insisted on staying, despite the fact that it was obvious neither wanted him there. She was surprised to note that he had an almost sick look on his face. Sara was about to ask if he was alright when Grissom walked back in the room and sat back down. He had Melanie's love letters in his hands.

"His little peach," her boss muttered as he began to thumb through them. Sara's eyes widened. He'd caught it, too?

"There," Grissom said, pointing to one of the letters. "Whoever was writing these addressed Melanie as Peach, more than once. It seems to be his nickname for her."

"And Abby said that her attacker said 'his little peach' most likely referencing her mother."

One of the corners of Grissom's mouth twitched as if fighting a grin. "These cases are too closely linked for that to be a simple coincidence."

For the first time since this case began, Sara was feeling the beginnings of hope. "And how could a dead man be writing love letters 20 years later?"

"He couldn't be, which means the man Abby is remembering is not her father." Grissom gave small smile of approval. "Looks like you're theory about Abby might be plausible."

Sara gave him a wide smile, relief washing over her. This could all be over soon. She glanced back at Randy to see what he thought about their revelation and saw that he still looked sick. Her relief lightening her mood a little, she kindly asked if he was alright. He shook his head, but still didn't speak.

"Detective Jones?" Grissom prompted. Randy swallowed hard, before bringing his gaze up from the floor to look them directly in the eye.

"My uncle—" Randy started before breaking off. He took a deep breath and started again. "My uncle had this nickname for my aunt. She was his second wife, I was too young when he and his first split to remember her. Anyway, my aunt used to tease him cause he recycled her nickname from the one he'd given his first wife. She'd call him unoriginal and he'd laugh, a slight twinkle in his eye."

Grissom sighed. "Detective Jones if you could—"

"My uncle's nickname for her was Peach. He grew up in Georgia, it was the same nickname my grandfather had for my grandmother. My uncle would call my aunt his little Peach just as he'd lean down and give her a kiss. I thought it was sweet."

Sara stopped breathing, was frozen as she sat there staring at Randy. After a moment she finally worked up the nerve to speak. "Randy? Did your uncle know Leigha Summers?"

Randy nodded. "He was the judge that presided over her trial for the murder of her husband."

Suddenly assaulted with the memory of the judge glaring down at her while she was on the stand, his eyes icy and cold. There'd been something slightly familiar about them, but she'd been too traumatized to place it. Now she could.

Sara barely made it to the bathroom in time before she threw up.

* * *

She finally knew who murdered her mother, and done the awful things to her as a child. Connecting the Judge to the faces from those nights had brought all the memories she'd blocked away up to surface with such an overwhelming force that Sara could hardly process it. She could hear Grissom pounding on the bathroom door, asking if she was alright, but she didn't answer as she slumped back down on the floor, resting her head against the wall. She'd thrown up twice more since arriving in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, nothing had changed. What little they had wasn't even for even an arrest much less a conviction. Leigha had been very good at covering her tracks, or maybe the judge had? Either way, there had never been any proof of a relationship between the two of them prior to or after the trail. Not that it mattered now if there had been, Judge Jones would've had it destroyed by now. Without a confession from the Judge himself, they were screwed.

Grissom was threatening to break down the door if she didn't answer him, so Sara finally called out that she was fine and would be out in a minute. She managed to pull herself up off the floor, somewhat confident that she was done being sick. Using toilet paper she wiped away the tears that had started at some point and blew her nose, before checking her appearance in the mirror.

God, she looked awful. Like death warmed over, as her father would say. She smiled slightly as she remembered him, and began to make herself look presentable again. The "must have been something I ate" excuse wasn't going to work on Grissom for much longer, but for now it'd have to suffice.

"We don't even know if it is him," Grissom countered a few minutes later. They were back in the break room around one of the tables arguing over the case.

"Oh, of course it is," Sara said. "How many people do you know who use that nickname? And what are the chances of them both happening to have to same boyfriend and then ending up dead?" Not waiting for Grissom to respond, she turned to Randy. "Has your uncle ever been known to be violent?"

The detective shrugged. "He had a temper, but he never got physical with any of us." He paused. "His first wife was murdered, but he was never a suspect."

Sara jumped on that. "Was her case ever solved?"

Randy shook his head.

"We need to pull her case file," Sara said. Grissom agreed, and made the necessary call.

The murder of Rachel Jones matched the other two. While Sara pushed that this proved the judge did it, Grissom remained unsure. It was clear the same person had done all three murders, but nothing but coincidence put the judge in the middle of it.

"And we don't have any substantial proof that Melanie knew the judge," Grissom said. "Just letters signed by initials that could belong to any number of people."

Sara sighed. He had a point, they needed more evidence, something to tie Melanie in with the judge. But so far nothing fit. Melanie had never been part of a trail, never served on a jury where she could've met Jones, and her job never took inside the courthouse. As far as they could tell their paths never crossed. It was a dead end.

"We're not going to get any more answers without talking to the judge."

"The minute we do that, any chance at finding anything else to tie him to this will be destroyed," Sara told them. "The only way we go in there is to get a confession. We're only going to get one shot." A thought struck her then. It wasn't something she was going to enjoy, and it might not even work, but Sara was going to be damned if she let this guy get away with what he'd done.

"What is it?" Grissom asked, concern in his voice.

"I can do it." Sara looked up at him. "I can get the judge to confess."


	12. Chapter 12

Wow look at me two updates in one day :) We've still got one more chapter to go after this and then our journey will be over. I hope you guys enjoy this one too! :)

Disclaimer: I think you guys have gotten the point, I don't own.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Grissom asked for what Sara was sure was the tenth time. Sara nodded.

"Yeah, I can handle this, Grissom." She sent him a reassuring smile, hoping he wouldn't notice that it didn't quiet reach her eyes. Truth was, she was terrified. The thought of going in there and facing that man made her stomach churn. The last time they'd been alone together he'd be raping her, and Sara wasn't sure she'd be able to let go of the fear long enough to be able to say what she needed to. But she didn't have a choice, this was their only option. She had to do this, for Melanie, for his first wife Rachel, for her mother, and who knows how many others he'd hurt over the years.

Sara had to do this for herself. So she swallowed her fear and mentally began to prepare for what she was about to be dealing with.

"But if this man is who we think he is, Sara—"

Making a split second decision, Sara cut him off by placing a chaste kiss on his lips. She bit her lip as she pulled away, resisting the urge to grin at his shocked expression. "I'll be fine." And suddenly she knew she would be. Because even if that kiss never led anywhere else, if all they ever did was flirt, Sara knew that Grissom wouldn't let anything happen to her if he could help it, and would close enough to intervene if necessary. She trusted him to have her back, and that gave her the last boost she needed to be able to pull this off.

Grissom still hadn't said anything, so Sara gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked over to where Randy was standing. Randy was their in to Judge Jones' chambers and he looked just as nervous as Sara felt. She just hoped he kept his cool long enough to get Sara and the judge alone.

"Hey, you've got this, alright?" She placed a hand on his shoulder. "All you have to do is get us in to see him and then make yourself scarce. I'll do the rest, okay?"

Randy looked up at her. "How are you going to get him to tell you he did it?"

Sara thought for a minute, still not eager to give herself away just yet, despite what she was about to do. "I'm going to talk to him about Abby." Which, in essence, was true.

She was going in wired. They needed a taped confession, something concrete that couldn't be changed by him bribing someone to change their testimony. It'd been difficult to get the necessary equipment and people together without drawing too much attention to themselves but they managed. It wouldn't do to get this far only to have Jones be tipped off as to what was happening. This was Sara one shot, and she wasn't going to waste it.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" She heard just as the lab tech finished wiring her up. Sara winced. Bill was the last person she wanted to see right now.

"I'm helping to catch a murderer," Sara said, as nonchalantly as possible. If anything that seemed to make Bill angrier.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he whispered harshly. "Cause that's what it looks like."

"This is the only way we're going to get him, Bill. And I'm not going to pass up the chance to put his sorry ass behind bars."

Bill seemed to take in what she said, and reluctantly agree that she had a point. "I still don't like it."

Sara chuckled. "I didn't think you would, which is why I wasn't going to call you until it was over. By the way, who did?"

"Lover boy over there."

"He's not—"

"He said you guys were going after Jones and might need some help pulling some strings. I was happy to oblige."

Sara glared at her uncle. "I hate you."

"I love you, too," he smiled, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.

"Bill!"

He held his hands up. "I know, I know. No one's supposed to know. But my niece is about to confront a murderer, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

Sara rolled her eyes, but still gave him a smile. Grissom came over then, telling them it was time and asking Sara once again if she wanted to do this. Sara just nodded, and headed out the door.

* * *

The trip to the courthouse was short, but just long enough for Sara's nerves to almost get the best of her. A few calming breaths helped settle them some, but she could feel them just beneath the surface. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute as she walked in with Randy.

His uncle wasn't busy, so they were ushered into his chambers without waiting, something Sara was glad for. Randy was doing well, explaining that a case they had resembled one he presided over and that they'd come to hear his thoughts on the case. Every instinct told Sara to run as far away from the judge as possible, but she fought them down. She could do this.

Just like they planned, Randy excused himself, claiming to have left something in the car, leaving Sara and the judge alone. He seemed to be studying her, and Sara was wondering if he'd noticed anything familiar about her. His curiosity appeared to get the best of him.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?"

Sara had to tread carefully, giving herself away too soon could jeopardize everything. "A few times, though most of them I was unaware of until recently."

His brow drew together in confusion as he tried to decipher the meaning behind her words. She had his attention now, something she needed to keep if this was to go her way. She had to find a way to let him know she meant business, without angering him to the point that he called for his secretary, who was seated right outside the door. The first way Sara set about accomplishing this was flattery.

"You're very good at what you do."

Judge Jones glowed at the praise, misunderstanding exactly what Sara was referring to. "Why thank you, darlin'."

Sara resisted the strong urge to shudder. God, she could wait to be done with this man once and for all. But she had to keep up the ruse, so she smiled at him.

"Have you ever thought about marketing your skills, maybe for hire? I'd sure you'd make lots more than you do here."

He looked confused again. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I know which, uh _skills_ you're talkin' about."

Sara did her best to look innocent. "I'm referring to your ability to murder someone in cold blood without leaving a trace of evidence behind."

Fear passed over his eyes for just a moment, but Sara saw it. Anger quickly replaced it, stirring up the fear inside Sara. The point of no return had been passed, if she had any hope of escaping this she had to continue.

"You are the one who murdered Melanie Griffiths, as well as Leigha Summers and your late wife Rachel Jones, are you not?"

"None of those deaths had anything to do with me, now if you would kindly _get out of my office_."

She kept talking, not making any move to leave. "You almost got away clean, you know? I mean between the immaculate crime scenes and pulling the strings you had in every department. You made a couple of mistakes, though. The biggest one is standing right in front of you." He looked at Sara to elaborate. "You shouldn't have let me live."

"Oh? And why would you be important to these murders I apparently committed?"

Sara just smiled. "Because my name is Sara Abigail Summers."

If her stomach hadn't been in her throat she might have savored the utter shock on his face. It was gone in an instant, though, replaced by pure rage. Sara took a deep breath before continuing.

"So you do remember me, I was beginning to wonder."

The judge schooled his features, and his lips turned up slightly. "You think this means you've won? You made a big mistake coming back here, I'll make sure of that." Jones moved to pick up his phone.

"I don't think you will," Sara said. "See, your advantage has always been that I was a traumatized little girl who could barely articulate what she'd been through. I'm not that little girl anymore, and I remember now, all the times mom took me with her to meet you, how you'd hit her whenever she did, because you'd told her multiple times that you hated kids. And what you'd do to me when my mom was passed out whatever drug and drink cocktail you'd made for her. I repressed the memories growing up, they were too painful for me to deal with, but whatever was blocking them is gone now, and if you think I'm going to keep my mouth shut you are sadly mistaken.

"You're cousin or whoever he is, my old shrink? Yeah he screwed up. He took me under hypnosis, had me relive one of my traumatic events. But that event wasn't caused by my father, I was remembering what you did to me, how you were going to teach your little Peach not to bring me around anymore." His eyes widened at the nickname and Sara smiled. "Yeah that was another mistake. Recycling the same nickname? While I'm sure it kept you from accidentally calling all the women in your life by the wrong name, it royally screwed you here. We wouldn't have even known to look for your first wife if you hadn't been so fond of it.

"So what did it with my mother? What caused you to lose it with her? As her daughter I think I have a right to know."

Jones thought for a moment before visibly shaking his head. "What the hell," he muttered. "You'll be dead soon anyway." He looked at her. "Every time she'd get drunk she'd bitch at me for not getting her a lighter sentence, considering I'm the one who actually killed her husband. One day I just snapped."

Sara's breath caught. That had not been the answer in any version she'd created in her head, and it took her a minute to react.

"Thank you."

Jones laughed humorlessly. "For what? Giving you _closure_?"

Sara nodded, and then lifted up her shirt, exposing the wire taped to her skin. He lunged for her.

She struggled to fight him off, but he overpowered her and wrapped a hand around his throat, squeezing hard. He made sure to look directly into her eyes as he choked the life out of her. Her vision was spotty and Sara could tell she was about to pass out when she finally heard the door to his office crash open. Jones was dragged off of her and Sara immediately began coughing as air rushed back into her lungs. She felt someone cradle her head, and knew without looking that it was Grissom. He was telling her everything was okay and that he had her and Sara let herself sink into his embrace as Detective Randy Jones placed his uncle in handcuffs and led him out of the room. Sara had never felt more at peace.


End file.
